EP01: Unpacking the “Later”...

CHAPTER-1

Ananya and Kabir lived in the same bustling city, leading lives as parallel as train tracks, yet never quite meeting. 

Ananya, a young graphic designer, often got lost in deadlines, promising herself she’d enjoy life “when things settled down.” She had a cupboard full of unworn dresses with tags still attached and a shelf of scented candles that had gathered so much dust. “Special days” she would mutter, even though her calendar seemed allergic to them.

Kabir, a software engineer, was no better. His bucket list was like a museum—filled with things he admired but never touched. Learning to play the guitar? On hold. Hiking in the mountains? “Next summer, for sure,” he’d say every year. His fancy sneakers stayed protected in their box, and his vacation fund was always raided by “more practical” expenses.

Their worlds collided one fateful Saturday at a small bookstore. Outside the bookstore there was a small chai ki tapri where Rajesh bhaiya and his daughter used to sell tea along with biscuits. It was a rainy day and as usual there was a lot distinctive chatter around the corner. Ananya, along with a bag of art supplies and a white cup full of tea, bumped straight into Kabir, sending paint tubes splattering across the floor and elaichi fragrance from the tea filling up the entire hall. 

“Oh my god, I am so sorry!” she exclaimed, trying to rescue her sketchbook from the puddle of tea.

Kabir, crouched beside her, picked up a bright red and yellow paint tube and grinned. “At least it’s a colorful mess.” Their eyes met, and for a split second, the chaos around them faded.

As they gathered the mess, Kabir couldn’t resist flipping through her sketchbook. “You’re really good,” he said, genuinely impressed. Ananya blushed. 

“Thanks. I… haven’t drawn much lately.” 

He handed her the sketchbook with a smile. “Maybe you should start again.” And just like that, a spark was ignited.

But life, as it often does, had other plans. They didn’t exchange numbers, just a lingering glance as they parted ways. Yet, neither of them could stop thinking about the other. The small bookstore became a silent witness to their unspoken longing as both began making excuses to visit—but always on different days.

Ananya found herself “needing” new art supplies more often than usual. She’d linger by the shelves, her eyes staring at the entrance, hoping to see Kabir. 

“Maybe he’s not a regular,” she thought, trying to suppress her disappointment. 

To soothe herself, she bought yet another sketchbook she didn’t really need.

Kabir, on the other hand, suddenly discovered a love for books. His roommate, Arjun, raised an eyebrow when Kabir came home with a stack of books he’d probably never read. 

“Since when do you like poetry?” Arjun teased, flipping through one of the books. 

Kabir shrugged, hiding his red cheeks. “It’s for inspiration,” he mumbled.

Weeks passed, and the bookstore seemed to conspire against them. One Saturday, Kabir arrived at the bookstore and picked up a random book, pretending to browse while scanning the room. She wasn’t there. Disappointed, he grabbed a chai from Rajesh bhaiya’s tapri, the warm elaichi scent bringing back memories of their first meeting.

Ananya showed up the next day, her sketchbook in hand. She settled into a corner, sketching absentmindedly, her eyes staring at the door every time someone entered the store. When a couple walked in, laughing and sharing an umbrella, her heart sank a little. “Maybe I’m being silly,” she thought, closing her book and leaving with a heavy heart.

Finally, the universe seemed to take pity on them. One rainy afternoon, Ananya was sketching a scene of Rajesh bhaiya’s chai tapri. She was so engrossed that she didn’t notice Kabir walking in until she saw a familiar body with her side eye. She turned her eyes towards the door. 

Their eyes met, and both froze, caught off guard.

“Hi,” Kabir managed to say, his voice almost drowned by the rain outside.

“Hi,” Ananya replied, her smile hesitant but hopeful.

Kabir gestured toward her sketchbook. “Still sketching, I see.”

Ananya glanced down at her work and shrugged. “Yeah, it’s kind of my way of unwinding. Umm… do you… come here often?”

Kabir laughed softly, holding up the book in his hand. “More often than I’d like to admit. I’ve been pretending to be a bookworm lately. What about you?”

“Same,” she admitted, her cheeks flushing slightly. “I guess I was hoping to… ”, she stopped speaking and then whispered to herself  “… run into someone.”

Ananya’s laugh was light, but she quickly changed the subject, pointing to the book in his hand. “What’s that you’re reading?”

Kabir glanced at the cover and chuckled. “Honestly? I grabbed it off the shelf without looking. Let’s see…” He turned it over. “‘The Art of Not Overthinking.’ How ironic.”

Ananya laughed. 

“And that sketch of yours?” He pointed at the chai tapri scene she was drawing. “It’s beautiful. You’ve captured it perfectly.”

“Thanks,” she said softly. “I’ve been trying to sketch more of the things that make me happy.”

“That’s a good habit,” Kabir said, his voice softened. 

“Would you like to have some tea, Ms...?” Kabir asked suddenly, nodding toward the tapri outside.

Ananya hesitated, then smiled. “Its Ananya...and no, I’m fine, really.”

“Come on,” his eyes twinkling. “Let me make up for the other day. Spilled tea and ruined paint tubes deserve a second chance, don’t you think?”

She laughed softly. “Alright, you’ve convinced me! Mr...?”

 “Kabir ”, he chuckled.

They stepped out into the rain and found shelter under the tapri. The aroma of freshly brewed chai filled the air as they each took a steaming cup. Conversation flowed as naturally as the rain fell around them. They talked about their lives, their quirks, and the little things that brought them joy.

“So, graphic design?” Kabir asked, taking a sip of his chai. “Was that always the dream?”

Ananya shook her head, a smile playing on her lips. “Not really. I wanted to be an artist, but… you know how life happens. Practicality won over passion.”

Kabir nodded. “I get that. My guitar’s collecting dust for the same reason.”

“You play the guitar?” she asked, surprisingly.

“Barely,” he admitted with a laugh. “But maybe someday I’ll actually learn.”

“You should,” Ananya encouraged. “Life’s too short for ‘someday.’”

Kabir smiled. “You’re right. And you should start painting again.”

“Deal,” she said, holding out her hand for a mock handshake. They both laughed, the sound blending seamlessly with the rhythm of the rain.

As the conversation began to wind down, Kabir hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Ananya, I… I’d really like to stay in touch. Can I… have your number?”

Ananya’s cheeks flushed, but she smiled warmly. “Sure. I’d like that too.”

As they parted ways that evening, both felt a little lighter, as though the rain had washed away more than just the day’s fatigue. It had cleared the path for something new, something promising.

Kabir had texted her the night they exchanged numbers, and their conversations flowed effortlessly, filled with laughter and late-night chit chats. 

They started visiting the bookstore regularly and one day Ananya saw Kabir holding a small gift bag. 

Kabir rehearsed his speech the entire day. “I… I got this for you,” he stammered, handing her the sketchbook. “I thought maybe you could… you know, fill it with things you actually enjoy drawing.”

Ananya’s heart raced. “Thanks...Thanks a lot”, she said with teary eyes.

From that moment, they began to focus on each other’s happiness. They went out for shopping, lunch and concerts, shared a lot of music and laughs.

One evening, Kabir brought up an art exhibit happening in the city. “It’s this Friday. Thought you might be interested,” he said.

Ananya smiled at the text. “Only if you promise to not critique the modern art too much,” she replied playfully.

When Friday arrived, they walked through the gallery, sharing quiet observations and occasional jokes about abstract pieces neither of them could quite understand. Ananya felt her passion for art reignite as she explained certain pieces to Kabir, who listened intently, genuinely curious.

Afterwards, over dinner at a small café, Kabir brought up the lipstick he had noticed Ananya admire in the mall earlier. “You should get it,” he said simply.

Ananya hesitated. “It’s too much, and where would I even wear it?

“Anywhere you want,” Kabir said earnestly. “You don’t need a reason to feel good about yourself.”

She smiled, his words resonating deeply. A few days later, she wore that dress she was saving for special occasion and of course that lipstick to the bookstore, feeling both nervous and excited. As they both sipped tea, Ananya's lipstick left a pinkish stain on the white cup and Kabir’s reaction—blushy cheeks, wide smile and a heartfelt compliment—made her feel like she’d made the right choice.

In turn, Ananya thought of pushing Kabir towards his hiking dream. 

“I found this trail nearby. It’s perfect for beginners,” she said one afternoon, showing him pictures on her phone. “We should go.”

Kabir hesitated but agreed, as he could not resist her infectious enthusiasm. The hike was an adventure in itself, filled with mishaps and laughter, summing up in a breathtaking sunset at the peak. As they sat side by side, Kabir looked at her and said, “I can’t remember the last time I felt this alive.”

Ananya smiled, sketching the scene in her notebook. “Me neither.”

CHAPTER-2

Meanwhile, the chai tapri run by Rajesh Bhaiya and his daughter Siya had its own story of delayed happiness. Siya, a bright young girl with dreams of becoming a pastry chef, often watched the city folks bustling by. She’d sketch cakes and pastries in a worn-out notebook while helping her father serve chai. Her dream, however, always felt distant. 

“One day, when we save enough, you can join a baking course,” Rajesh Bhaiya would say, though the savings jar was quite thin.

One evening, as the customers crowded the tapri, Ananya noticed Siya’s sketches lying on the counter. “These are amazing,” she said, showing them to Kabir.

Siya blushed. “They’re just doodles.”

“They’re much more than that,” Ananya insisted. “You should pursue this.”

Rajesh Bhaiya overheard and sighed. “She will, someday. But right now, we have to focus on the tapri.”

Kabir, moved by the situation, suggested a small step. “Why don’t you try baking something and selling it here? Your customers already love your chai; they’ll love your cakes too.”

Siya’s eyes lit up at the idea. With a little encouragement from Ananya and Kabir, she tried her hand at making simple cakes with bare minimum ingredients. Rajesh Bhaiya, though hesitant at first, supported her fully. Within days, the cakes became a hit. Customers began asking for them specifically, and Siya’s confidence soared.

Wrapping up the day and cleaning the counter Siya said “Maybe we don’t have to wait for someday,” And handed her father a cake with a smile.

Rajesh Bhaiya patted her head, his eyes moist. “You’re right, beta. Sometimes, we just need to start.”

As Kabir and Ananya watched this transformation, they felt even more inspired to embrace their own journeys.

Their relationship grew organically, built on shared moments and mutual encouragement. They lit the candles, wore the dresses, and said yes to adventures, savoring the simple joys they had once postponed.

One quiet evening, when the power went out, they lit every dusty candle in Ananya’s apartment, filling the room with a warm glow. Kabir surprised Ananya by bringing out his guitar. 

It was slightly out of tune, but he strummed it anyway, filling her apartment with a melody that was imperfect yet heartfelt. Ananya couldn’t stop smiling as she watched him, the glow of the candles reflecting in her eyes. 

“You’ve improved,” she teased, her laughter warm and genuine.

“Not by much,” Kabir admitted, chuckling. “But at least I’m playing it now.”

That night, surrounded by candlelight and music, they realized how far they’d come—not just together but as individuals.

Ananya started filling her sketchbook with new drawings, inspired by their shared moments—a steaming cup of chai, the muddy trail of their hike, even Kabir’s crooked smile as he tried to fix a guitar string. Each sketch told a story of happiness rediscovered.

Kabir, in turn, began to dust off his bucket list, tackling one small dream at a time. He wasn’t scaling Everest or writing musical compositions, but he was hiking, learning, and living.

One later evening, as they sat on Kabir’s balcony, the darkness admiring the city lights, Ananya broke the silence. “You know, I’ve done so much in these past few months—things I kept putting off for years.”

Kabir nodded, his gaze fixed on the chase between moon and clouds, “It’s funny, isn’t it? How we kept waiting for the ‘perfect time,’ thinking happiness would come wrapped in some grand moment. But it was always in the little things we overlooked.”

Ananya smiled, her hand brushing against his. “Like chai in the rain and mismatched candles?”

“Exactly,” Kabir said in his voice soft. “Like sketchbooks and sunsets.”

“Like Siya and cupcakes”, they both chuckled together.

Their story wasn’t about dramatic gestures or fairy-tale romance. It was about choosing to live fully in the present, finding joy in the lost lives, and encouraging each other to stop waiting for “someday.” They became each other’s reminders that happiness wasn’t a destination but a series of moments—here and now.

For Ananya, it was wearing that dress and sketching without judgment. 

For Kabir, it was strumming his guitar and hiking trails he once only dreamed of. 

For Siya, it was the dream of baking cakes.

And for Rajesh bhaiya... it was just supporting her daughter and fulfilling her dreams.

Together, they learned that happiness grows when nurtured, and the best time to start is always today.

So, if you’ve been waiting—waiting to wear the dress, light the candles, baking cakes (which might turn into cookies or whatsoever) or take that first step toward a long-forgotten dream—don’t. 

Because in the end, it’s not the grand moments that define us but the courage to embrace the small ones.

And who knows? Along the way, you might just find your own Ananya or Kabir, or your Siya and Rajesh Bhaiya—or better, rediscover yourself.

So, until you find yourself someone, do it for yourself. Go wear that dress and you better tune that guitar right away!

And I’ll be waiting to enjoy your cakes :)

Because life is too short for “later” and far too beautiful for “someday.”